


Polymorphous Subterfuge

by thensepia



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Bottom, Power Bottom Randall Carpio, Randall being Randall, Top Hamish Duke, Werewolves, bottom Randall Carpio, butterscotch flavored lube, technically not safe sex but WEREWOLVES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thensepia/pseuds/thensepia
Summary: “You… can’t fight your feelings…”“Well, you can, but what’s the point?”. . .This picks up after Hamish and Randall kiss in the bar and fills in the TERRIBLE gap that the show clearly overlooked.There will be two chapters, then I have a sequel in mind.Please let me know what you think! <3
Relationships: Randall Carpio & Hamish Duke, Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	1. A Not-Very-Considered Escape Mechanism

**Author's Note:**

> My first Order fic, and man, I am so deeply invested in these two dumbasses being together.

“You… can’t fight your feelings…”

“Well, you can, but what’s the point?”

They grinned at each other. “Kiss me,” Randall said softly, leaning into Hamish. Hamish met him halfway, his hands coming up to cup Randall’s face, fingers sliding through his hair as their lips met. Hamish’s tongue all-too-briefly flicked against Randall’s bottom lip, and Randall wrapped his hand around the back of Hamish’s neck as they kissed. As Hamish pulled away, Randall smiled a dopey smile and nudged Hamish’s nose with his own. “Let’s get out of here,” Randall said with the closest thing to a leer he could manage, jerking his head toward the door.

Smiling, Hamish made a noise of assent and the two quickly slid out of their seats, leaving the Order medicums stunned as they walked out. As the door swung shut behind him, Randall could hear Angus say smugly, “Called it!”

...

They made it roughly a block before Randall couldn’t take it anymore, and he grabbed Hamish’s arm and pulled him into a narrow alley between an antique shop and a bookstore. Hamish’s eyebrows shot up, but he let Randall manhandle him, pressing him up against the brick wall, caging Hamish in with his arms.

“Did you… back there…” Randall started, his voice coming out rough even to his own ears. He trailed off and took a shuddering breath as he looked up into Hamish’s gaze.

“Use your words, Randall,” Hamish said, but the uptick of the corners of his mouth softened it, made it more teasing than mocking.

Randall bent his elbows, his fingers flexing against the rough brick under his hands, and he pressed closer into Hamish. “Did that kiss… _affect_ you?” he asked, his voice close to a growl.

Rather than speak, Hamish wrapped his hands low around Randall’s waist and pulled his hips into him; Randall could feel Hamish’s cock pressing against him, hard and hot behind his jeans. “Oh,” said Randall, momentarily stunned, then an understanding, “Ohhhh,” slipped out, and he couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips minutely against Hamish, his own dick getting with the program in record time. “So… that’s a yes?” Randall asked, a grin slowly stretching across his face.

Hamish answered by sliding his hands down to cup Randall’s ass and pulling him in as he closed the rest of the space between them. He ghosted his lips across Randall’s before kissing him in earnest, their lips meeting, then parting, then meeting again. Hamish brushed his tongue lightly across the seam of Randall’s mouth and Randall opened eagerly, his tongue caressing Hamish’s, slow and gentle at first but growing more ardent as they pressed into one another. Randall fisted the sides of Hamish’s sweater as Hamish dug his fingertips into Randall’s ass, which elicited a low moan from Randall, arching his head back as his breath rushed out. Hamish took full advantage, running his lips up the column of Randall’s neck, his tongue and the blunt edge of his teeth dragging against the hot skin, drawing _another_ filthy moan from Randall that Hamish could feel both under his lips where they sucked on Randall’s throat and throughout the length of his body. Randall threaded his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Hamish’s neck and canted his hips into Hamish’s, pressing their swelling cocks together, and Hamish’s breath caught as he felt Randall’s cock slide against his own even through the maddening layers of their clothes. Randall pressed forward again, licking into Hamish’s mouth and sucking on his bottom lip, setting his teeth into the swelling flesh and biting down gently. This time it was Hamish who moaned into Randall’s kiss, and Randall drew back slowly with a lascivious smile on his face.

“House?” he asked, flexing the muscles of his ass, which was still firmly in Hamish’s grip.

Hamish’s fingers momentarily squeezed harder, then relaxed. He took in Randall’s face: cheeks flushed, lips swollen, mouth parted. It was the best kind of invitation. “Race you,” he said with a grin.

Randall’s face lit up like it was Christmas. “First one there gets to top!” he said, pivoting and adjusting his track pants as he took off at a flat run.

Hamish barked a laugh, adjusted his own cock to ride up toward his hip, and took off to try and catch up with Randall.

... 

Back at the house, they slipped through the door together, but as soon as it closed behind them Randall pushed Hamish up against it, his mouth hot and wet and insistent against Hamish’s as he cupped Hamish’s face between his palms. Hamish slid one hand into the curls at the back of Randall’s neck, and with the other he slid his fingers under the hem of Randall’s shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of Randall’s back. Randall moaned and arched against him as he kissed Hamish hungrily. Running his hands down Hamish’s chest, he slipped them underneath Hamish’s sweater and spread his palms against his sides, the skin hot beneath his fingers. He brushed his thumbs just above the top of Hamish’s jeans, right along the ridges where the V of Hamish’s hips curved up and around into his waist, and Hamish made an obscene noise against Randall’s mouth that went straight to Randall’s dick.

“Mmmm… my room or yours?” Randall asked in a throaty whisper, his lips ghosting over Hamish’s ear, his thumbs brushing along the sides of Hamish’s abs.

“My sheets are clean,” Hamish replied breathily, his voice breaking when Randall licked the shell of his ear. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Randall’s track pants, his fingertips digging into the upper swell of Randall’s ass.

“Well, let’s go fuck them up,” Randall said with a smile, pulling Hamish toward the stairs by the waistband of his jeans.

Hamish went willingly, with a wolfish grin on his face that had nothing to do with Tundra.

They eventually made their way upstairs, pausing several times to press one another into the closest flat surface, lips tangling, fingers grasping. It was messy and chaotic and so fucking _hot_ , and Randall felt like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t get more skin-to-skin contact. He stopped on the landing, a step above Hamish, enjoying the feeling of being slightly taller for a moment, and he slid his hands under Hamish’s sweater, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the pale lines of his chest, slender but muscled. Randall had seen Hamish naked too many times to count, but now he got to _touch_ , and that made all the difference. He ran his fingertips down Hamish’s chest, his touch light and slow, tracing his way from the tops of his shoulders down to his pectorals, brushing the pads of his thumbs against Hamish’s nipples, which pebbled beneath his touch. Hamish leaned up into Randall and kissed him, his hands pulling at Randall’s track jacket until Randall slid it off his arms and let it fall. As Hamish pushed his t-shirt up, he grasped the back of the neck and pulled, and Randall tossed it over the banister as Hamish leaned in to kiss the center of Randall’s chest, soft lips and hot tongue pressed to his flesh.

Randall’s breath caught as Hamish ran his mouth lower, his tongue leaving a hot, wet trail as he kissed his way down and then across Randall’s chest. Randall threaded his fingers through Hamish’s hair, and Hamish looked up at Randall. Their eyes met as Hamish flicked his tongue against Randall’s nipple; Randall gasped and fisted his hand gently, pulling at Hamish’s hair, and with a grin Hamish dropped to his knees on the stairs, his hands running up Randall’s thighs and then dragging his track pants down. Looking up at Randall through his lashes, Hamish leaned forward and kissed his stomach just below the navel, his tongue dipping under the waistband of Randall’s boxer briefs, and Hamish ran his palms up the sides of Randall’s legs, nails scratching lightly against the soft skin. He ran one hand up to cover the front of Randall’s hip, and with his thumb he gently stroked a line up Randall’s cock as it pressed hot and tight against the cotton fabric. Hamish leaned forward and pressed his open mouth against the head, sucking at Randall through the material.

“Fucking _hell,_ Hamish,” Randall gritted out, his fingers tightening in Hamish’s hair as he braced himself against the stair rail with his other hand. The wet heat of Hamish’s mouth was simultaneously _sogood_ and _notenough,_ and Randall couldn’t remember ever being this desperately turned on before. He made a strangled noise as Hamish added the delicious pressure of his palm against Randall’s shaft, his tongue flicking against his frenulum, and Randall couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips forward, seeking more pressure. Hamish looked up at him, his mouth stretched over his underwear-clad cock, and he pulled off and smiled filthily as he drug the front of his waistband down and tucked it under Randall’s balls. Hamish ran the knuckle of his index finger up the arch of Randall’s cock, enjoying both how Randall's cock twitched against his touch and the desperate look on Randall’s face as he did. He slid his fingertip through the precum leaking from the slit and held Randall’s gaze as he brought it to his mouth and licked, then slid it into his mouth, his lips closing around the digit, eyelids dropping to half-mast and a guttural moan filling his throat as the taste of Randall hit his tongue.

Randall let out a shuddering breath, fingers flexing against the back of Hamish’s neck. “F _uuu_ ck, Hamish… Are you _trying_ to make me come on your face? Because _that’s_ how you get cum on your face.”

Even hard and desperate and nearly quivering, Randall’s near-incessant good cheer still undergirded his words, and Hamish felt a heady rush of affection alongside the desire pooling in his limbs. Hamish grinned up at him, slipping his finger out of his mouth, dragging the center of his lip down as he did, teasing Randall. “I wouldn’t mind, really,” he said, and he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the length of Randall’s cock, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kissto the head. He rolled his gaze back up to Randall and spoke with his lips ghosting against his frenulum. “But you could come down my throat instead,” he said, his breath hot against Randall’s skin, and then he leaned forward and closed his mouth around Randall, taking him deep.

Randall let out a strangled shout, the sudden heat of Hamish’s mouth making his knees go weak. The banister creaked beneath his hand, and Randall realized he had a death grip on it; he braced his other hand against the wall, trying to keep himself upright without breaking the house. Hamish ran his hands up the back of Randall’s thighs, over his ass, and he slowly pulled Randall’s boxer briefs down as he worked his mouth up and down on Randall’s cock, taking him a little deeper each time. Randall was thick and leaking, the taste and smell of him clouding Hamish’s senses, ratcheting his own desire higher; he could feel his own cock leaking in his jeans.

Hamish brought a hand to Randall’s cock, holding the base as he slid his mouth down the rather impressive length, and when it hit the back of his throat, he pushed forward slowly, the head breaching the ring of muscle at the back of his throat. Randall moaned above him, low and long, and as he pulled back, he glanced up. Randall was watching him, an impossibly fond expression on his face. Randall pulled his hand from the wall and reached down to caress Hamish’s face, his fingers cradling his jaw, and he swept his thumb softly across Hamish’s cheek. The gesture was so unexpectedly tender, and his gaze filled with such warmth that Hamish could feel himself blushing, heat filling his cheeks even as his mouth was still stretched around Randall’s cock. Something about the look Randall was giving him made him feel like his blood had been replaced with Prosecco, effervescent and dizzying, and he could feel his own heart pounding. He pressed his free hand against his own cock, suddenly afraid he was going to come in his pants like a teenager.

Rather than confront the swell of emotions tumbling around inside him, he redoubled his efforts, swallowing Randall’s cock again, his lips meeting the circle of his fingers where he had them wrapped around the base. Randall moaned again, the sound rough, and slid his fingers back into Hamish’s hair, just holding, not pressing. Hamish worked his throat around Randall again, easier with each successive effort, and soon he was deep-throating him every stroke. Randall held himself still with an almost herculean effort, but a string of epithets spilled from his mouth. “Fuck… _Hamish…_ god… your _mouth…_ so hot…” He was near babbling, and he could feel his orgasm building like a freight train barreling down upon him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Hamish. “Fuck, Hamish, you’re so hot… I’m… I’m gonna come, Hamish, _please…_ ”

Hamish looked up at Randall through his lashes and swallowed him down one more time, and Randall moaned, wanton and filthy, and came, hard, his cock jerking in Hamish’s mouth as Hamish laved his tongue against the under side, swallowing with each pulse. Randall’s moans were mixed in with breathy _fucks_ and _ohhhs_ and _Hams,_ and he felt lightheaded, like that orgasm had wrung him out and left him empty, and his knees buckled just a bit before he caught himself. Hamish grabbed his hips by reflex, helping him stay upright, and he rose and crowded Randall back against the wall, letting him lean against it and wrapping his arms around Randall’s back, taking some of his weight. Randall looked sated and kind of dopey— _kind of the way he looks after a particularly satisfying kill_ , Hamish thought, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Randall leaned his head back against the wall, looking at Hamish through half-lidded eyes. “Ham-sandwich,” he said, “who knew you were such a _snack?_ ” Randall laughed, almost drunkenly.

Hamish rolled his eyes and sighed, a beleaguered, put-upon sound. “You know… _just_ this once… I’ll allow it.”

Randall barked a laugh and smiled, open and earnest, and he reached a hand up to Hamish’s face, swiping a bit of cum from the corner of his lip. Hamish caught Randall’s hand and, holding Randall’s gaze, slowly brought it back to his mouth, catching it in his mouth and rolling his tongue against the pad of Randall’s thumb. Randall’s gaze immediately changed from _sated_ to _ravenous,_ and he pushed himself up off the wall as he grabbed the back of Hamish’s neck and kissed him hungrily, licking into his mouth, tasting himself on Hamish’s tongue. He slid his other hand between them and cupped Hamish’s hard cock, still trapped behind the fly of his jeans, and the way Hamish pressed himself into Randall’s touch and moaned as Randall caressed him betrayed how desperate he actually was. Randall sucked on Hamish’s bottom lip as he flicked open his belt. He pulled the supple leather through the belt loops one-handed and dropped it to the floor, relishing the promise held in the sound of the metal buckle hitting the floor. He slid his fingers lower, pulling at the button. Hamish practically jumped as it popped free.

“Ooh, button fly. So _fancy_ ,” Randall said in a near-whisper against Hamish’s ear. Hamish involuntarily arched his neck against the heat of Randall’s breath, and Randall took that as an invitation, brushing his lips just under Hamish’s ear, kissing his way down the pale column of his neck, biting gently at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Hamish’s breath caught and then he moaned again, which Randall felt reverberate under his mouth. Randall ran his hand slowly down the side of Hamish’s neck, splayed his fingers over his chest, ran his palm downward, pausing to tug gently at Hamish’s right nipple, which elicited another moan under his lips. He slid his hand slowly down Hamish’s body, fingertips caressing the dips and curves of his abs, tracing the V of his hip downward until he reached the hem of his jeans. Randall kissed his way across the base of Hamish’s neck as he slipped one finger beneath the waistband and slid it toward the center, and with both hands, he slowly, maddeningly popped open the rest of the buttons, his fingers splaying the jeans open and one hand slipping inside to press against the hot skin beneath where his cock was hard and taut against his stomach. As Hamish shuddered a breath, Randall licked back up his neck to his other ear. “Ham-ster, going commando, are we?” he said in a low, dirty voice, _finally_ taking mercy on him and wrapping one hand around him, spreading the not-inconsiderable amount of precum down the shaft and using it to slick his way as he pumped Hamish’s cock slowly.

Hamish pressed his hands against the wall on either side of Randall, looking down where his dick was disappearing and reappearing in Randall’s fist. He felt like he’d been hard _forever_ at this point, and the slick drag of Randall’s hand was both relief and torture. He closed his eyes and fisted his hands against the wall, and then he felt one of Randall’s hands cupping his face.

“Hey, Hamish… you okay?” Randall asked softly, the teasing tone gone and replaced with tenderness. He continued stroking Hamish slowly with his other hand, though he loosened his grip a little.

Hamish met Randall’s eyes, and without even thinking about it, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Randall’s mouth. He pulled back a little and smiled softly at Randall. “I’m good, I just… I _need_ to come,” he said in a small voice.

Randall flashed him a grin. “You wanna fuck me?” he asked brightly, and Hamish had to close his eyes again lest he come right then. Not trusting his voice, he nodded, and Randall, who was, it seemed, incapable of being anything other than Randall, said, “Yay!” eagerly as he grabbed Hamish’s wrist and pulled him toward his room.

Hamish rolled his eyes, shook his head, and followed.


	2. An Inpromptu Exploration of Conterminous Climaxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Hamish fucks the hell out of Randall, and Randall loves it.
> 
> Man, I am CRUSHING these chapter summaries, amirite?

As soon as they cleared the doorway to Hamish’s room, Randall took a running leap onto the bed and lay on his side, propping his head up on his elbow, his body stretched out like the best kind of invitation. “How do you want me?” he asked with enthusiasm. “Doggy style seems a _little_ on the nose.” Randall grinned, his eyes bright.

Hamish paused, shook his head again, and very deliberately closed the door. As he walked toward the bed he slid his jeans down, toeing them off gracefully as he ran his eyes over Randall’s body. He stood at the edge of the bed and stroked his cock twice; he couldn’t help but feel a little smug about the look of hunger that flashed across Randall’s face as he tracked the movement of his hand. Hamish pulled open the drawer of his bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube, tossed it on the bed beside Randall, and then slowly crawled over Randall, rolling him onto his back and slotting himself between Randall’s thighs. “I want you like this,” he murmured, kissing a hot line up Randall’s neck. He rolled his hips, sliding his cock alongside Randall’s, the drag of their flesh together both delicious and maddening. “I want to watch you fall apart on my cock,” he whispered against Randall’s ear, and Randall moaned.

“Yes, _that,_ ” he said, grabbing Hamish’s jaw and pulling him down, kissing him greedily as he rolled his body against Hamish’s. Hamish kissed his way down the length of Randall’s body, pausing to roll Randall’s nipples between the blunt edge of his teeth and to nip at his hipbones. He spread Randall’s legs and pressed them up with his hands as he licked and kissed his way down Randall’s cock before running his tongue across the soft flesh of his hole. Beneath him, Randall let out an obscene moan, and Hamish flicked his tongue against him again, this time pointing it to dip inside Randall the tiniest bit, eliciting another deep moan. Pausing, Hamish sat up.

“Randall. Why do you taste like butterscotch?” he asked with a calm he didn’t necessarily feel.

Randall propped himself up on his elbows and gave Hamish a wide, dirty smile. “I may have used a toy on myself this morning, and I was out of the regular lube,” he said, shrugging a little.

Hamish closed his eyes and enjoyed the tremendously vivid mental image of that for just a moment before he reached for the “regular” lube. He slicked up two fingers while he held Randall’s gaze, and he pressed them against his hole, saying, “well, I guess we can skip some of the preliminaries then,” and he smiled as he slid them smoothly into Randall, pushing past the initial resistance and immediately nailing Randall’s prostate with the pad of his forefinger.

Randall dropped back to the bed and arched his back, shouting Hamish’s name as he pushed into Hamish’s hand. “Fuck! Ye _sssss,_ ” he hissed as Hamish pulled out almost all the way and then slid in again, nailing his prostate again with a precision that Randall was both impressed and wrecked by. “Another,” he demanded, and he saw Hamish grin as he pulled out and pushed back in with three fingers. Randall stretched readily around him, the breath punching out of him when Hamish stroked over that spot again, and he reached for his own cock, which was hard and leaking against his stomach.

“No,” Hamish said in a commanding tone, grabbing Randall’s wrist and pinning it to the bed. Hamish gave him a wicked smile as ran the pad of his finger against that spot again, obviously enjoying Randall’s moans. “You’re going to come on my cock, and not before.” He punctuated his words by hitting Randall’s prostate again.

Randall moaned again, long and loud, as he saw stars behind his closed eyes. “Then fuck me already,” he bit out, rolling his hips into Hamish’s touch and smiling up at him.

Hamish huffed a laugh. “Should have known you’d be a power bottom,” he said, pulling his fingers free of Randall and slicking up his cock. He enjoyed the way Randall’s eyes eagerly followed the movement, and he stroked himself lightly a couple of times just to tease him.

Randall groaned. “Hamish, I respect you as our leader, and I support the choices you usually make, but you seriously need to get your cock in me, like, _now,_ ” he said, hooking a foot around Hamish’s thigh and trying to pull him forward. Hamish grinned and lined himself up, and he leaned over and trapped Randall’s wrists to the bed on either side of his head as he rocked his hips forward and pushed, slowly sliding into the delicious tight heat of Randall’s body.

Randall moaned, low and breathy, his head arching back. “Fuck, Hamish,” he gritted out, enjoying the slight burn of being filled. “So good,” he breathed, wrapping his legs around Hamish.

Hamish bottomed out and held himself still, his hands still pressing Randall’s wrists to the mattress. “Yeah?” he asked, dropping a kiss on Randall’s exposed Adam’s apple, running his lips up under Randall’s ear. He nipped at Randall’s earlobe.

Randall pushed up a little against Hamish’s hands on his wrists, not to get away, but just to feel Hamish press down harder. He flexed his calves around Hamish’s ass, trying to drag him closer, but Hamish was the quintessential immovable object. “Even better if you _move,_ ” he huffed out, and if it came out whinier than he meant, well, it was _Hamish’s_ fault.

Hamish pulled back even more slowly than he had pushed in and then slid home again, not stopping until his hips were pressed tight against Randall’s backside. Hamish drew back again and changed the angle of hips as he pushed back in, grazing Randall’s prostate, eliciting a whimper from Randall. “Fuck, Ham, _again_ ,” he said, balling his fists.

His longer torso allowed Hamish to lean down and kiss the corner of Randall’s mouth as he rocked into him again slowly. “I like you needy,” he murmured against Randall’s mouth. He ran his forefingers over the soft skin on the inside of Randall’s wrists, and when Randall opened his fists, he brushed them lightly over the heels of his hands. Randall hummed appreciatively and stretched up to kiss Hamish softly, and Hamish thrust slowly again, feeling Randall moan against his lips. Randall was eager and open beneath him, and Hamish let out a shuddering breath. “Honestly,” he said softly, pressing his forehead to Randall’s and speaking in the space between them, “if I go much faster, I’m not going to last long.”

Randall’s legs flexed around him. “Well, don’t hold back on my account—pretty sure I could come right now,” he said, clenching around Hamish.

Hamish groaned. He squeezed Randall’s wrists once before sliding his hands down Randall’s arms, across his torso, and then grasped his hips. “Grab the headboard, then,” he said in a low voice, near to a growl.

Randall did as he was told, wrapping his hands around the metal of the frame with an open-mouthed smile. He touched his tongue to his top teeth and flexed his arms, pulling against his grip on the bed. “C’mon then,” he said, “fuck me, Hamish,” his voice light and teasing as he clenched around Hamish’s cock again.

Hamish pulled back, almost all the way out, and holding Randall in place, he snapped his hips forward, immediately pulling back and repeating the motion, nailing Randall’s prostate on every stroke. He gripped Randall’s hips hard enough to bruise as he drove himself in and out of Randall’s body. Randall rewarded him with some truly porn-worthy moaning as Hamish fucked him hard and fast. “Yes, _fuck,_ yes, I’m close,” Randall urged as he pounded into him, and Hamish moved one hand to the top rail of the headboard and used it to brace himself as he licked his palm and grasped Randall’s leaking cock with his other. He fisted it in counterpoint to the snap of his hips, and Hamish could hear both of their heartbeats roaring in his ears along with Randall’s gasps and moans and half-muttered curses. “Hamish, god, please, don’t stop _don’t stop don’t stoooppp,”_ he cried, his words running together as he arched under Hamish and came, his cock jerking in Hamish’s grasp, painting his chest with cum.

“ _Randall,”_ Hamish murmured almost reverently, managing only three more strokes before the orgasm he’d been fighting off punched its way through his body, starting low in his abdomen and radiating outward in waves, suffusing his limbs with pleasure. He buried himself deep in Randall as he emptied himself, his hips twitching weakly. He felt lightheaded, invincible; everywhere their skin touched felt electric. As the roaring in his head slowly faded, he felt Randall’s hands on his shoulders, sliding up around his neck, and Randall pulled his head down into a kiss that was almost chaste after the intense decadence of their fucking. Randall’s lips were soft and moist against Hamish’s mouth, his hands cradling Hamish’s head gently, and Hamish kissed him back softly. As the kiss ended and Hamish pushed himself up to look at Randall, Randall leaned up and bumped his nose against Hamish’s, echoing the nose bump from the pub that started all this. Hamish smiled fondly and cupped Randall’s cheek with the hand that _wasn’t_ covered in cum, sliding his thumb against his cheekbone, and he leaned in to kiss Randall softly once more. As he shifted, Randall grabbed his hips and stilled him.

“Stay? Just for a bit?” he asked quietly, rolling his hips against Hamish minutely.

“Of course,” Hamish said softly, kissing Randall again gently. He wiped his hand off on the sheets and settled his weight against Randall, running his fingers through Randall’s hair. Randall leaned into the touch and sighed. Hamish felt fucked out and weirdly content as Randall’s fingers trailed absently down his back.

“You know,” Randall said, sounding pleased, “the upside of werewolfdom is that we can go for round two in just a few.” He ran his hands lightly over Hamish’s ass and squeezed, smiling up at him.

Hamish huffed a laugh and bit Randall’s jaw playfully. “You can’t fight your feelings,” he said softly against Randall’s ear.

“Well, you can, but what’s the point?” Randall murmured back, turning his head to kiss Hamish more thoroughly.

. . .

Later that afternoon, fucked out and freshly showered, they ambled back downstairs, and Randall dropped somewhat gingerly onto the couch. “Drink?” asked Hamish.

“Of course,” Randall replied, grinning.

Hamish went to the bar and started making a cocktail as Lilith and Jack came in. Jack dropped onto the sofa beside Randall as Lilith complained, “If I wanted to act this much, I would have majored in theatre.” She huffed as she flopped into the chair.

“I schedule a fake text every fifteen minutes so I always have an excuse to get away from Gabrielle,” Jack said.

“Smart!” Hamish said, turning from the drink he was mixing. “Randall and I had to _kiss_ each other to get away from our monitors,” he grumbled, turning back to the bar.

Yeah,” Randall said as Lilith looked at him inquisitively. “Had to,” he said, nodding unconvincingly, “we _had_ to.”

Hamish grinned at him where the others couldn’t see, and Randall was fairly sure that serious, scholarly Hamish Duke _winked_ at him.

He smiled back, a small, secret smile that held a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am glad to wrap this up but really all it has made me want to do is write more of this instead of working on my dissertation. You know. Like you do. Adult choices. :|
> 
> Honestly, this was kind of an exercise in a third-person omniscient perspective, which I don't usually write, so I hope it's not too... jarring? Weird? All constructive criticism welcome. 
> 
> <3 Randall + Hamish 4-EVER <3


End file.
